


Don't Dance Alone

by MarauderChaos



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Gay, Gay Male Character, Gay Ron Weasley, Hogwarts Fourth Year, M/M, Male Friendship, Oblivious Harry, Supportive Ron Weasley, Yule Ball (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:28:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24408040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarauderChaos/pseuds/MarauderChaos
Summary: In which Harry and Ron go to the Yule Ball together instead of with the Patil Twins, and Ron realises something about himself.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger/Viktor Krum, Seamus Finnigan/Dean Thomas
Comments: 7
Kudos: 78





	1. Horrible Dress Robes

**Author's Note:**

> All rights go to J.K.Rowling

“I’m beginning to think this was a bad idea.”

“It was your idea!”

“Hey- I never said I had good ones!”

Their hissed whispers carried a little, down the winding staircase as their shoes came into view, gentle taps reverberating slightly against the stone. Ron grimaced, his long lanky frame arched behind his best friend, unable to hide as they stumbled down the last few steps, barely avoiding what could have been a pile of robes and limbs hazardous upon the floor. His fingers pulled awkwardly at his locks, and he shifted under the robes, old material scratching at his skin. He tugged at the bonnet and the ugly brown thing that draped over his torso, or was it red? He really couldn’t tell, it may even be the glow of the light, but that did little to soothe his nerves that seemed to sizzle in his stomach like the frazzled expression on his face. 

“Leave it alone.” Harry muttered, gently grasping as his hands went once more, rising up to try and find some way to retain any scraps of dignity left. And if by the giggles scattered around the common room were anything to go by, he had failed at that was well.

Ron found he often failed at things. Spells and exams were not his specialty, that belonged to Hermione. He wasn’t all that social, not really, he could hardly get the words from out of his throat, trying to get a date to the stupid bloody ball. He wasn’t the hero with the unjust life, one filled with perils. That was Harry, and he could keep that for all the trouble it was worth. He failed to be popular, he even failed to be ambitious like Percy. He was stuck in a roundabout of never quite getting things right. A roundabout that just kept swirling.

He failed at getting a proper date to the ball too.

He failed to get nice dress robes.

He failed to remember the steps they were taught.

He failed-

“Hey,” the brush of air tickled his neck and a dark lock fell into those gemstone eyes, he swallowed carefully, incredibly aware of the warm palm still curled around the back of his hand, and the body that leaned in far too close.

“Calm down,” Harry whispered, and their fingers slipped back to their sides, something empty dropped within his stomach. “We chose to come as friends, if anyone thinks otherwise they’re just stupid. And you look fine, stop messing.”

“You’re not the one that looks like someone just pulled you off the mantle-piece!” He snapped, though if only to hide the crushing sensation of disappointment, to keep his face from falling.

So he was stupid then?

He’d never planned for this, he hadn’t even planned for the idea in his head to come falling from his mouth, but it did, one night in the common room. They were far too relaxed, baking in the warmth of the fire, and wallowing in their on self pity when the words came tumbling from his lips.

“Why don’t we go together?” He had said, with a short lazy laugh, eyes closed and head tipped back in the glow of the flames. He expected a laughing response, and so cracked open his bright blue orbs to stare at his friend through his hazy state.

“Better you than Eloise Midgen.” Harry hummed lightly, staring up at the ceiling, body sprawled in a similar position to his friend, who both chose to ignore the loud huff from Hermione in defence for her fellow Gryffindor, and instead exchanged a small grin as a plan formed in their heads.

It was later that night, as Ron yanked the hangings shut around his bed, the two boys whispering quietly in the darkness of the dorm room and came to a decision that could very well change their lives.

“It won’t change our lives Ron.” 

“It could!”

“Would you two shut up??!”

And Ron was completely fine with that, truly he was. Until he wasn’t.

Until it rubbed him the wrong way, the whole idea. And he told himself, like a mantra, repeated over and over in his head, that it was because he didn’t want people to get the wrong idea about them, they weren’t together, they were just friends.

So why were Harry’s eyes so piercingly green all of a sudden.

“Oh honestly!” She appeared, with an eye roll and nothing but exasperation upon her face, hands fluttering over his chest, plucking away and tying up the loose ends. Ron sucked in a sharp breath as Hermione stepped back and offered him a shy smile. A periwinkle blue dress was draped down her torso, floating just above her ankles like a cloud sweeping her along, fluttering at her sides, eyes sparkling like the stars etched above in the darkening sky as the time drew closer to the start of the ball. Her hair was curled, silky and smooth, tied up with a delicacy of tender hands.

“You look amazing I-“

He croaked, forcing his jaw to move, and a blush rose on Hermione’s cheeks as Harry echoed his sentiments, moving in for a hug, but both were ended abruptly by the sharp squeal of Pavarti and Lavender who raced across the room, as fast as their heel’s would allow, gushing in equally beautiful garments.

“Shall we go down?” Harry murmured, a coy smile on his lips and Ron cleared his throat, shifting his weight a little, and trying to ignore the way his breath caught as Harry passed by, their hands brushing.

It was enchanting, one of the most beautiful things he had seen, the ice sculptures arched high into the bowls of the ceiling, raining down a beautiful blue glow upon the walls and snowflakes hung in the night of sky that was the ceiling, glittering above delicately. There was a tree, rising high towards the magic mirroring the outside, with crystals balanced upon the end of branches and glass ball-balls each filled with their own miniature snowstorm.

It wasn’t something he was used too, the stares, as they walked through a line made for them, the champions and their partners. He was Ron Weasley, people looked past him and towards his brothers, or Harry. But now it was to both, as they walked through the hall, shoulder to shoulder, though Ron wasn’t sure whether it was because of his horrible robes, or because Harry had chosen him and not a girl.

Ron found himself rather enjoying it, much to his surprise, though they had yet to dance, so that might have something to do with the looming dread. But for now, he decided, it really wasn’t too bad. There was some tension between himself and his brother, though Ron wasn’t sure why, he hadn’t spoken to Percy since the summer, maybe that was it. But between their half hearted attempts at conversation, both brothers were easily pulled away.

The food was delicious, from their golden plates up at the High Table, surrounded by beauty of the decorations and champions. It did make Ron feel rather self conscious, and so he picked carefully at the food on his plate as too not come across as greedy, and instead attempted to enjoy the moment. Percy was in conversation with Ludo Bagman about something, and Ron was sure who to feel more sorry for. Roger Davis was goggling at Fleur Delacour, who Ron simply chose not to look at for fear of somehow embarrassing himself more than he already had.

“Hermy-own-nee”

Hermione giggled at Viktors attempts, but had more patience that Ron could possess, and continued to try and teach him. Ron was content to keep to himself, and Harry of course.

“This proably safer than Beaubaxtons”

Roger was doing a terrible impression of attempting to get Fleur to stay, she seemed more and more disgusted as the night went on.

Harry snorted into his soup, and Ron almost choked on his drink as he took a sip, and Hermione hid a smile as she muttered “Fluffy.”

“Aragog”

“The Rat”

The trio shared a smile, through their muttered contradictions until they noticed everyone staring at them, and followed those murmurs with new ones of

“Well I mean-“

“Dunno who Aragog is-“

“What Rat-“

Dumbledore offered them a twinkle of his eyes, despite Fleur’s rather alarmed gaze and Percy frowned, shaking his head and returning to his meal.

Viktor Krum was also frowning, and Ron wasn’t sure why, though he still wanted the Quidditch Players autograph, but he didn’t like the way he spoke to Hermione, as if he knew her.

“Hey um c’mon.” Harry mumbled, rising from his chair only seconds before the others did and gently grabbing Ron’s hand. It was only for a second, in which Ron allowed Harry to pull him up, before he released his hand and Ron was left with a coldness where his palm had been.

There was an awkward moment, as they came to stand opposite one another, and froze, arms moving jarringly, not quite sure where to place their hands. They settled silently on the decision that Ron would take his waist and lead, the stronger of the two, he did so without complaint though his ears began to turn a light shade of red.

A wolf whistle sounded from the crowd, one suspiciously like Seamus, a sound he made of which they had come to familiarise with the last three years, and Ron’s ear only got redder. Harry didn’t seem to hear, his eyes darting wildly as the song began, and Ron noticed the way the light reflected against his glasses, serving only to make his eyes greener.

They moved lightly, though albeit awkwardly, they were far from smooth in their movements that had been hastily learnt over the course of the last two weeks, but they were in tune enough with each other to carry themselves for as long as the attention was upon them.

“You’re not half bad.” Harry said breathlessly, as bodies slid round them, filling the space, and they moved closer.

Ron smiled slightly and shrugged “Hermione gave me a few pointers.”

The beat changed, and Ron found himself pulled into a sea of dancing students, arms whacking against his chest and head, stumbling between screams and cheers and wild waving hands dangerously close to his face until he broke free of the mass cloud of hyperactive students and on to the side-lines where he stumbled to an empty seat.

Harry made it out moments later, and Ron watched his face light up in relief as their eyes met and couldn’t hide the burst of strange pride that rose up, couldn’t hide that is, from himself. Harry dropped down next to him, and he almost jerked away, as something static erupted between them as their legs brushed.

His breath caught for a second, but Harry didn’t seem to notice, for which Ron was suddenly very grateful for. At least until he found his friend fixed upon a dancing couple at the edge of the student mass, and for a moment he wished his closest friend had noticed, noticed like how Ron did. But he didn't, still those green eyes were only upon Cedric Diggory and Cho Change and Ron really wasn't sure which was worse; knowing Harry had a crush on one of them, or not knowing which one. 

Admittedly, they really were both very pretty, and that had never bugged Ron so much. Until Harry wouldn't stop staring at them. And that confused him even more. He didn't want to know why it bothered him. 

His gaze moved from those raven locks and piercing eyes, to the couples scattered within the sea of students, and he found Hermione dancing with Viktor Krum. Something riled up within him, and his jaw clenched tightly. It was as if he was watching Ginny over there, her red hair curled and flowing down her back, a bright smile on her face, and he scowled deeply. Whether anyone believed it or not, Hermione was like a sister, an annoying sister that never stopped bugging him about bloody homework, but a sister none the less. 

"Weasley's jealous!" Seamus crowed, striding past with a drink and Dean on his arm. Ron retaliated, throwing a napkin towards him. Harry's head snapped round, and his eyes fell on Dean, whose arm tucked at Seamus' side, and his eyes grew wide, never leaving their arms.

"Are they together??" Harry asked sharply, but quietly, almost hissing in his ear, and Ron shrugged, hand gripping his chair to avoid reaching up and pushing aside lock of dark hair that fell into his face, daring to obscure those emerald orbs.

"Would it matter if they were?" That wasn't what he'd planned to say, indeed another shrug was on the verge of his shoulders, but the words slipped from his mouth and he couldn't take them back. Instead he watched with unusual scrutiny, staring at his best friends face to gorge his reaction, heart thudding in his chest. 

This time Harry shrugged, though he was biting his lips and eyes cast down to the floor. Something dropped within Ron's stomach, deep settling dread for a reason he couldn't quite work out, and he stood abruptly, jaw working before his brain could catch up. 

"I'll go get us some drinks."

He really needed to sort himself out before he returned, a decision quickly made as his legs take a detour towards the bathrooms. 


	2. Moon in the room

Droplets trickled down his face, trailing through the light sheen of sweat that had coated his face as he pulled at the collar of his robes. The tap ran loud, echoing against the stone walls and he hunched over, now slippery his palms clenched tightly around the edge of the skin and he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Come on Ron,” He mumbled, and lifted his head, breath beginning to fog up his reflection in the mirror. “Get a grip.”

He sighed and breathed deeply through his nose, releasing the sink and stumbling backwards slightly until he was leaning against the frame toilet stall, and rubbed a sleeve over his face. It had only been too easy, to break free of the crowded room and splash cold water on his face, to slip away without notice.

“Yes dear, those robes are doing nothing or your eyes.”

He scowled deeply, and cursed whoever charmed the mirror’s for the evening, irritation bubbling below the surface. Those stupid robes. Maybe if he had new ones, nicer ones that didn’t come from his Great Aunt Muriel, maybe then Harry would notice him.

But why? After all Harry did notice him, they were best friends for Merlin's sake! Besides Harry never looked at him like he did Cho. Or was it Cedric? That didn’t matter though, that shouldn’t matter, they were just friends.

“Just friends? Then why are you so jealous?”

Ron hadn’t realised he’d been speaking out loud, and his eyes flew open, a scolding righteous anger firing up to glare at the mirror.

“I’m not jealous!”

“Oh but dear, I’ve seen that look so many times. Which girl is it?”

Ron groaned, and rubbed his face, hands coming to curl in his lengthy ginger locks, shaking his head.

“Or is it a boy? Because that’s fine too you know.”

Whether it was the voice of the mirror penetrating through his brain, or the one in his head that sounded an awful lot like Hermione and seemed to echo everything it was saying, they only fueled his frustration, and one might say, his panic.

“Ron?” A voice called his name, and he started out of the bathroom, carrying himself away from those stupid mirrors, the struggle to just get himself out. His palms hit the doors, and his body seemed to sail through the gap, air brushing through his hair and he stumbled out, barely avoiding crashing into a couple passing by, who gave him strange glances, but he paid them no mind.

A welcome face made their way into his vision, and Ginny smiled at him, a light blue dress twirling at her ankles and a sparkle in her eye.

“Ginny, h-hey.” He swallowed hard, and combed a hand through his hair in any vain attempt to come across as something other than a mess. She raised an eyebrow at him and then giggled.

“So you’ve seen Hermione and Krum together then?”

He sucked in a breath, and the hand at his side balled into a fist, so close to the edge, teetering on the possibly moment of screaming, the yell stuck in the back of his throat and he exhaled through his nose.

“Did you need something?” He replied, once he was sure he wasn’t about to bite her head off, though each word was pushed through gritted teeth. This only served to make Ginny smile more, that teasing mischief that was forever present on Fred’s face and in George’s smile.

“Oh, no, I saw you head out, thought you might want to know Harry looked a little lonely. Isn’t he your date?”

“We’re just friends dammit!!”

The exclamation bounced along the corridor, ricocheting against the walls that flickered with the light of the torches, and Ron really couldn’t tell if he was talking about Hermione or Harry. Ginny stepped back slightly, she looked hurt, no longer teasing, eyebrows furrowed in surprise. He found himself moving again, past her and away from the blue glow of the hall, away from the laughs and cheer’s, away from the kissing couples on the staircase.

A sharp wind ruffled his robes and slapped against his face, as he found himself on the bridge, the moon high up in the sky, but his eyes were on the stars. They were scattered along the deep blue of the night, light fluctuating in periodic glances from each one, their own specific colour. The moon lay beaming in the corner of his eyes, but he ignored it, ignored it like that something in the back of his mind that kept scratching at the surface of his thoughts. A d although cold and sharp, the wind that blew around him offered some comfort, like a presence willing to listen and carry his thought’s away.

“They think I like Hermione,” He spoke softly, leaning forwards, his arms pressed on the wood, hands clasped in front of him.

“And I do. She’s really pretty, beautiful really. But not like that.”

It fluttered through his hair, like a hand soothing, and he spoke to nothing but the wind. Ron found he did that a lot recently, of worries he would never speak and of things he’d be too embarrassed to say.

“She’s like my sister.” He sighed, and the stars continued to shine above, taking no notice of the inner turmoil swirling through him.

There was a long stretch of silence, and the wind whistled gently in his ears, like his mother might whisper after a nightmare. His chest ached, he wanted to fall back, into the warmth of her embrace, to let the night slip away as though it were never there, to wake up and forget all about it.

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and cleared his throat, as if to make some sort of speech, one that nobody else would hear.

“I do like someone,” He licked his lips as his voice carried a little, mouth drying until each swallow was like sandpaper and he longed for a drink, trying to forget the image of Harry, sat there waiting for him when he had no intention of returning. “At least I think I do.”

Those emerald eyes swam into his vision, bright and nervous and peeking up from beside the window where the sunlight glanced through the window. And Ron had been so relieved, to have been accepted into the compartment, to find that one person he had met so fleetingly, someone who might be willing to share a compartment, his brothers too busy with their friends, and then it had become a relaxed warmth, that the owner of those bright eyes was just as nice as he was polite. Ron was just glad to have made a friend, and then happy with the friendship that was born. He never realised it would turn into something more.

Ron wasn’t sure when obligation to the school _“Do you want to stop Snape or not?”_ became willing sacrifice “ _If you want to kill Harry you’ll have to kill us too!”_ and his loyalty changed, from Gryffindor and his family and Hogwarts, to one boy.

“I-I think,” His voice now scarcely above a whisper, slow and cautious like fox creeping through the woods and every muscle in his body stiffened, waiting for the now inevitable as his mouth continued to work, and the panic that had begun to build came in the form of a cold sweat and shaky breath’s.

The moon filtered large than ever in his line of sight, unable to block it out, he met the glow that forever surrounded it in the night sky, he met that with a bright gaze of his own, bright in the light, but bright in the shine of courage.

“It’s Harry.” His jaw worked hard, aching against his face, as though glued with a thick gum and his hands clenched the wood. The name slid past his lips, it tasted like treacle on his tongue and hung in the air, frozen for a second as the wind fell flat.

“Harry. Harry, _Harry_ -“ With each whisper, each slowly growing louder and one name on his lips, with each whisper something seem to fall from his shoulders, layer by layer, each breath a little easier, a little stronger and he felt lighter.

“I-I like him,” he was talking now, at a normal voice, and it drifted with the wind that picked up, brushing against him like something excited, hyperactive, and he gasped a little, closing his eyes.

“Bloody hell, I like Harry Potter.”

There, he’d said it. Out loud, in the open, no more running. He didn’t even know if he was gay. He just knew that he liked his best mate. He blew out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding and laughed. A short, light laugh, one mingled with relief, and pride and ease. A smile creeping up on his face, he could breath easy.

He was free from the roundabout for one long minute, the world stopped swirling.

Harry sighed, and drained his glass, abandoning it on a random table, traipsing dejectedly through the hall of dancing couples. The mass of students had diminished considerably now, the odd few left to the grasps of a slow song, looking relaxed in their place swaying with their partner, whilst others looked close to sleeping where they stood, and the clock struck midnight.

“Harry!” His head snapped up, hoping to see that mop of red hair, and just managed a smile through the draining disappointment as his other best friend appeared, her hand threaded with his competition. Harry didn’t mind that though, she looked happy enough, if the smile on her face was anything to go by, and Viktor wasn’t really his competition, Harry had never wanted anything less in his life, he didn’t even want to be in the stupid tournament.

“Harry, you know Viktor of course.” Harry held out a hand, with a friendly nod, though the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. Viktor eyed him suspiciously for a moment, before shaking his hand, with a firm sturdy grip, that in a strange way reminded Harry of Ron. His missing best friend.

“Vere is vor ginger friend?”

Harry raised an eyebrow, somewhat defensively, before his shoulders slumped a little and he shrugged.

“Search me.” He mumbled and Hermione frowned slightly. Before she could say anything however Viktor spoke again.

“Vell tell him I vould like to meet him vor me? Hermy-own-nee, I vould like to see you again?”

Harry nodded absently and moved away quickly, not wishing to hear that conversation much, making his way out of the Great Hall where he almost walked into Cedric.

“Harry! Can I have a word?”

He nodded once more, and followed a Cedric a little further away, Cho lingering at the steps to say goodnight. At the start of the year Harry had a crush on his fellow champion, but now it had diminished into a friendship of sorts, and though normally he would be glad to have a conversation with Cedric, all’s he wanted right now was to find his friend. One who now owed him a drink.

“Listen I realised I never really paid you back for the tip about the Dragons,” Harry almost sighed, he’d had enough with the tournament, he would be happy to fall asleep and never wake up to not hear it mentioned again.

“S’okay, you would’ve done the same.”

“Exactly! So um, does your egg wail when you open it?”

This caught his attention momentarily, and he frowned.

“Yeah..”

“Take a bath – er – take your egg…mull things over in the hot water – er – use the Prefects bathroom on the fifth floor, the password is _Pine-fresh_. Sorry, I have to say goodnight-“

Cedric cast him a final grin, and hurried back over to Cho, leaving Harry to stare after him in bewilderment.

“What did Diggory want?”

For a second his breath caught in his throat, before he whirled round to catch a flash of red hair, and a sheepish smile on his face.

“Ron,” he breathed, a sense of relief washing over, before he frowned, and the surprised gleam in his eyes dimmed. Ron stood there, with his hand’s inside his trouser pockets and his face half tilted towards the floor, an expression of sheepish regret and a smile that may have been a grimace.

“Where the hell have you been?!”

He watched with a quickly rising temper, and Ron winced, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, and peering through wind flushed cheeks and bright blue eyes. Harry almost forgot his anger, the loneliness that plagued him for the remainder of the evening and the sharp pinch of embarrassment. He’d enjoyed most of it, his dances with Ron, even the dinner with the other champions, and he could hardly fault Ron for disappearing when everyone seemed to have, but the hurt lingered. It had begun to remind him of the school disco’s in primary school, always sat on the bench, too afraid to stand up and dance, and often ended up with something poured over him. And always lonely.

“I’m sorry mate, I lost track of the time, I only stepped out for some air.”

Any other night he might have accepted this and moved on, but he couldn’t rid himself of the ache of abandonment, it made him feel small and weak, and he hated that with a passion. His best friend had abandoned him. A voice in the back of his head warned him he may be overacting little, a voice he often ignored, the one that yelled at him to find a teacher in dangerous situations, and mostly never did.

However, he took a deep breath, and tried to reign it in at least a little, and Ron seemed to take this as an invitation, quickly taking advantage of the temporary silence.

“I swear I’ll make it up to you, tonight’s just been a long night..”

There was a small sigh at the end of his words and Harry couldn’t tell if it was one of exhaustion or one of revelation, a happier one. He found, at that moment, he didn’t care.

“Yeah well, I’m sure you’ve had a nice time in whatever rendezvous you’ve been at.” He snapped, and spun away, starting back down the corridor.

“You don’t believe me?” Ron said sharply, his voice echoing up the corridor, and a couple of heads turned their way. He feet began to move as Harry paused, turning back round, and Ron strode up to meet him, his own temper flaring up.

“Why the hell don’t you believe me?! I’ve never lied to you before.” He scowled, and Harry scoffed, his emerald orbs flashing in anger.

“There’s always a first time.” He answered coldly and turned away once more.

“Oh yeah, here we go. Just because some people are assholes doesn’t mean everyone is out to get you!”

“And I thought we agreed to be partners together! I thought we agreed we would do this together!!”

They were yelling now, their voice travelling along the corridor and cheeks flushed red, eyes goading each other, seeing how far the other would go. Ron took a step forward, a snarl on his lips and Harry glared back, their chests heaving and full of pent up anger.

“Did it occur to you that I needed to do something??! That I had to figure something out?!”

“Yet you left me behind to do it!”

“It’s not about you!!”

They were face to face, their foreheads pressed together, panting in the heat of the moment, anger frazzled like electricity between them, and nobody moved, their eyes boring into each other.

But it was, despite Ron’s burning words, it was. A tense silence fell over the corridor for a long moment, nobody dared breathe, stifled in the heat of the pressure that blanketed over them, heavy and unrelenting.

“I missed you.”

They were whispered, their noses almost touching and Ron caught his breath, the fire burning from his lungs, those final words like a dash of cold water thrown over his shoulders and he searched desperately in those green eyes behind the flushed face and scowling expression they both adorned.

There was just a resigned sadness left in the green. The heat was lost almost as quickly as it had come, and Ron was left watching him walk away.

Regret.


End file.
